


White, Yellow, Red

by CC_Writes_Stuff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Pining, Post-Time Skip, Verdant Wind Spoilers, byleth is dense, hanahaki, no beta we die like Glenn, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 09:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff
Summary: It took him about an hour to finally find a book on medicine and healing, and when he finally did, he flipped through the pages. The page he was looking for was in the back of the book, in the Rare Diseases section of it. When he did, he felt another stone settling into the ever-growing pile of stones in his gut.Hanahaki disease: A mysterious, rare disease caused by unrequited, true love, where flowers start to grow in the recipient’s lungs when they suffer from one-sided love. If the disease is left untreated, or the person does not return the recipient’s love, they die from choking on the flower petals. Neither white magic nor traditional medicine has yet been able to cure it.Unrequited love, huh? He mused, taking the two books and walking over to one of the desks. He took out one of the flower petals from his pocket, looked it over. Carnations. True love was one of the things they stood for, and here he sat, suffering from an illness that was a result of one-sided love. If he hadn’t been so worried about the fact he might die from choking to death on flower petals, he would’ve laughed at the irony.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

_Where was she?_

That question had been tugging furiously at Claude’s mind since Teach had disappeared during the battle at Garreg Mach. It had been a month, now, and the Monastery had already fallen, Edelgard bringing the war to the Kingdom soon after. By then, he had already returned to the Alliance to help his grandfather with the Roundtable conferences and what to do about the Empire.

It was divided in two, three of the nobles wanting to keep neutrality and avoid the fighting. The other three - himself and his grandfather included - wanted to launch a preemptive strike against the Empire before they could make the Kingdom fall.

But despite all the arguing, scheming, planning and paperwork, Claude’s mind still ran with questions, the most prominent one being, where was Teach? It was a question that always snuck up on him, hit him on the back of the head with the flat edge of a sword. Claude expected that she would be back by now, ready to help lead him and the Deer against the Empire before either the Alliance or the Kingdom fell.

And yet, she hadn’t returned.

He had searched for her, managing to convince his grandfather to send out small search parties near the ruined monastery, but they all came back empty-handed. For a while, he considered going to search himself, but then several things hit him at once. First, Dimitri had died, and that Cornelia had taken over the western half of the Kingdom. That meant a few days to mourn, then arguing. Next, his grandfather grew weak, ill, and Claude found himself having to go in his grandfather’s steed more and more often. A few more months passed, and he had died. More mourning, more arguing.

But just before he did, the final thing - and perhaps the most concerning of all - were the little white flower petals he had started to cough up. Still, there was still arguing at the Roundtable conferences, and Claude soon found himself trying to tie the Alliance together so it didn’t fall apart and split into two. That left him with no time to figure out what the hell was with the flowers.

While he waited for a chance to get to the library, the coughing had started to grow slightly worse. It was few, and far-in-between, but each cough was laced with a few flower petals, sometimes with small drops of blood laced in. It was worrying, but amidst all his new responsibilities, he didn’t have much time to think about it, though carrying a small handkerchief had become part of his routine. The other nobles wouldn’t know he was sick if they never saw anything, and he didn’t need any more cards stacked against him.

When he finally did have some time to himself, the first place he headed was the old library near the outskirts of Derdriu. It was quiet, and only a few people were inside. He had rarely been to the library, and it sent off a discordant sound in his chest about how much it looked like the Monastery’s old library.

Then he shook his head. Whether he wanted them to be or not, his days as a student were long gone. Not even Teach, as amazing as she was, could fix that.

That discordant note rang inside Claude again, louder this time and accompanied by another stretch of coughing, which he had managed to muffle most of with his sleeve so as to not draw the attention of the few people inside. It was something he’d learned to do very well in recent months, but what was new was the number of petals that came with this one. It was quite a few more petals than what it normally was, and the amount of blood seemed to have raised as well. His throat felt scratchy, and there was a certain tightness to his lungs he hadn’t felt before.

So he moved fast, searching for and finding a book on flowers near the back. He flipped through the pages, checking each picture of the flower with the few he had carried with him from his fits. Finally, he found one that seemed to be a perfect match; _white carnation._

Claude frowned. He hadn’t seen many carnations since his time at the Monastery, when he’d seen them growing in the few times he’d visited the greenhouse. It was one of the gifts Teach had liked to give out to people, and even though he’d never gotten a carnation, from the few flowers he had gotten from her, he could see the love and care she put into taking care of them.

His eyes scanned the page, looking for anything that might tell him why he was coughing up carnations.

 _Standing for sweetness and loveliness, innocence and pure love, the white carnation is the historical good luck gift to women._ That was what the description had said when he read it. At first glance, it wasn’t useful. But after reading through the entire page on it a second time, that description popped out at him, a nagging feeling he didn’t like at all. He just couldn’t place his finger onto what, nor did it help him understand why the hell he was coughing them up in the first place.

Sighing, Claude tucked the book under his arm, then started searching for any books on medicine or white magic. He had a feeling that the fewer people who knew about whatever illness this was, the better it would be for him. Sure, he could go to Marianne, but he rarely saw her, and he knew that she was busy helping out her family. Besides, he didn’t want to worry her. For all he knew, this was just some small sickness that he didn’t have the resources to fix yet.

It took him about an hour to finally find a book on medicine and healing, and when he finally did, he flipped through the pages. The page he was looking for was in the back of the book, in the Rare Diseases section of it. When he did, he felt another stone settling into the ever-growing pile of stones in his gut.

_Hanahaki disease: A mysterious, rare disease caused by unrequited, true love, where flowers start to grow in the recipient’s lungs when they suffer from one-sided love. If the disease is left untreated, or the person does not return the recipient’s love, they die from choking on the flower petals. Neither white magic nor traditional medicine has yet been able to cure it. There are, however, three solutions._

_Solution One: The recipient falls out of love, which is what happens is most cases with younger recipients._  
_Solution Two: The person the recipient loves returns the love, at which case the flowers will stop growing._  
_Solution Three: The recipient gets surgery to remove the flowers. This is the last choice, usually saved for when the recipient is in the last stages of the diseases and hasn’t fallen out of love or the person the recipient loves doesn’t return their feelings. However, the surgery is dangerous, and if it’s successful, the recipient’s feelings towards the person disappear; and in some cases, forgets most, if not all, memories attainting to the person._

Claude frowned, rubbed the back of his neck as he read through the rest of the page. The few other bits and pieces of information about the disease were pretty much useless to him, and what little information he had gained about it didn’t make him feel any better.

Another coughing fit seized him, more flower petals spilling forth from his lips and into his sleeve. One it was over, he looked around to make sure no-one had heard him, before picking the petals off his sleeve and putting them into his pocket.

 _Unrequited love, huh?_ He mused, taking the two books and walking over to one of the desks. He took out one of the flower petals from his pocket, looked it over. Carnations. True love was one of the things they stood for, and here he sat, suffering from an illness that was a result of one-sided love. If he hadn’t been so worried about the fact he might die from choking to death on flower petals, he would’ve laughed at the irony.

Sighing, Claude frowned, leaned forward on the table and opened up the medicine book again. Unrequited love. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anyone he loved, at least not enough to develop this mysterious disease. He had a few friends, like Hilda, Lysithea, Marianne, and…

 _Eh, Lorenz is alright. I’ll count him in,_ Claude thought, then shook his head. Still, Lorenz barely made the cut, and he was sure that he didn’t love any of the girls. At least, not enough to get sick over it, and he barely had enough time to do his work and keep the Alliance from splitting, much less fall in love with someone in Derdriu.

A name tugged at the edge of his mind, then, incessant and nagging. Byleth. His old friend. Claude tried to push it out of his mind - it couldn’t be her. She was his Teach, his friend, not someone he loved. Besides, even in the slim case that he did, she was nowhere to be found. None of his contacts or search parties have found her, and his spies have said that - unless Edelgard was being incredibly careful or sneaky - Byleth hadn’t been taken prisoner.

But if her body hadn’t been found, and she hadn’t been taken prisoner, where the hell was she? It had been nearly a year and a half since she disappeared, and there was still no sign of her. It bugged him more than he cared to admit. Some part of him wanted to rush out to the monastery and look for her himself, but he just didn’t have the time.

Sighing, Claude closed the books, stood up, returned them. As much as he was like to take some time off for himself for a while longer and solve this mystery, he still had work to do. He could figure out who he loved later.

*

The next few months flew by, filled with arguing and paperwork and politics and flowers. The fits grow worse, and he finds himself coughing up more and more flower petals each time, and he starts to wonder what would kill him first; the Empire, the flowers, or politics.

Near the end of the third year since the fall of Garreg Mach, he had coughed up his first full flower. For a while, he tried to himself that it was just his eyes playing tricks on him; after all, coughing up full flowers couldn’t be a good sign. He had come to accept that Byleth was, in fact, the person he fell in love with. But with the fact that she still missing, he didn’t know what to do next. After all, it wasn’t like she could return his feelings if she were dead.

Claude realized what he was thinking, then, shook his head. Even though he couldn’t find her, he refused to believe she was dead. Flowers or no, there was still so much he had to say to her, and he wanted her to see his accomplishments. He wanted her back, wanted her so he wouldn’t feel so alone and overwhelmed. If she were there, this war would be close to ending, possibly even over already.

But she wasn’t. And that hurt worse than he could put into words. He wasn’t sure which hurt worse; the flowers or the loneliness.

*

Another year passed by, and there was still more paperwork. Count Gloucester was slowly shrinking his borders as the Empire continued to fight against what remained of the Kingdom. Rumors had started to spread of someone going around and killing Imperial officers, generals, and commanders. For a while, he had hoped it was Byleth. But the reports said that the murders were vicious like they’d been killed by a monster, rather than human hands. Besides, if it was Byleth, Claude was sure that she would’ve come to the Alliance, searched for him, and if not him, then the other Deers. Surely she couldn’t be the one going around doing all this, right?

Still, there were no answers. Still, she hadn’t been found, though it did make Claude wonder; if Teach died, would he still be coughing up flowers? Would they still grow, or would the wilt and die, and would he be free? He didn’t know; he didn’t know if he wanted to. If it was the latter, and the coughing did stop, or the flowers wilted, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to live with it. Living with the flowers was bad, but living without Teach was hard already. At least this way, he knows that she could still be alive. He didn’t know how, he just knew. It was what he’d been telling himself since she disappeared, that she was alive.

 _Besides,_ Claude figured as he signed off on a request to deliver more soldiers to House Ordelia, _if anyone could cheat death, it would be Teach. He’d seen her cut a hole in the sky with her sword and step out from… wherever the hell Solon had put her. Surely someone like that wouldn’t let herself fall to the sharp end of a blade so easily._

Only a year remained before he and the Deer were scheduled to meet back at the Monastery. Millenium festival or no, Claude would be going; he had made a promise, and he was going to see it through. He could only hope that everyone else could make it, too. Even Teach, wherever the hell she was, doing whatever the hell she was doing. Especially Teach.

Claude almost chuckled at that; if he hadn’t coughed up more flower petals, he just might’ve of. Even now, four years after he’d unofficially graduated, two years after he realized he loved her, he still called her Teach. It slid off his tounge as easily as schemes and promises and lies did. He wouldn’t be surprised, though, if - when they all met - the other Deer still called Byleth professor as well. Because that was what she’d been to them; a professor, a mentor, someone they could trust and turn to.

Even when the monastery was in the midst of betrayals and lies and death, he and the Deer still trusted Teach with all their hearts. Someone like that couldn’t be dead; he wouldn’t accept it, not yet. If she returned to the Monastery in one year, he might be able to start working towards the dream he had held onto all these years, and maybe he could bring her with him. If she didn’t, well… he shuddered to think about it.

So, he held out hope, catching the petals that fell from his mouth and nose all the meanwhile.

*

The next year passed by slow enough that he was in agony, waiting for the promised day of the Deer’s return to Garreg Mach.

Claude had kept up the search parties while he waited, hoping he wouldn’t have to resort to Teach showing up at Garreg Mach in order to know he was alive. But he started planning as well, wasting what few hours of sleep he got concocting schemes and plans against the Empire. That way, if Teach did show up, he might be able to launch an attack against the Empire before Edelgard tested his mettle as a leader. Return or no, Claude still made up schemes, still planned to go after the Empire before they could go after him.

Sure, having Teach there would help him considerably more; if he could convince Teach to lead the Knights of Serios in Rhea’s place, that meant he could have more soldiers fighting for him. But either way, he was going to fight, for not only the dreams he’d spent so long working on but for his friends. He couldn’t bear to see them fall. His first plan was to regain control of Garreg Mach. That way, he could have a base that much closer to the Empire. Not only was it in a strategically-great location, but he held many fond memories of it as well, and that adventurous part of him longed to walk the halls of it once more.

The attacks had grown worse, however. Claude had started coughing up flowers at an alarming rate, more blood spilling from his mouth each time, the petals growing in number. He coughed up two full flowers two days in a row, with a few more scattered in the mix. If the other nobles at the Roundtable hadn’t already noticed the fact he was excusing himself from the conferences more often than not, they would soon. The Millenium festival couldn’t get here soon enough; he didn’t need the other nobles thinking he was incompetent.

Finally, though, there was less than a week before the Millenium Festival. His mind had started to turn away from politics and arguing as the festival drew near, occupied with schemes galore. And yet, despite knowing that there was a slim chance that Teach was dead, he felt… almost happy. The fits seemed to ease, too, and he was surprised the first time he made it through a conference without excusing himself to hide his attack. He felt like he could breathe, like that large gap between him and his dream had shrunk.

Claude could only hope that it lasted, though. He didn’t want his good mood to be ruined by Teach not returning.

The day before he was festival, Claude made a trip over to the kitchen and, with the help of some kitchen boys, made Teach’s favorite food; Pickled Rabbit skewers. It was one of his favorite foods, and he’d often seen Teach having it when eating at the dining hall. He hoped - no, he knew - that they could share the meal, just like they did when they were students. It would make it seem like there was at least something right.

He spent the rest of his day with Nader, prepping him for all the shit the other nobles would throw at him while he was away, then packed his bags. Once night fell, he went out to the stables, where Suyen, his wyvern, waited for him. He attached his bags to the wyvern, then climbed on.

A coughing fit seized him as he did, and he doubled forward, hands shaking and red-splattered petals falling onto his hands. Luckily for him, no-one but Suyen was around, and the wyvern made a noise that sounded like worry. Once his fit had stopped, Claude reached forward and rubbed the wyvern’s head with his clean hand, shaking off the petals stuck to his glove. They flittered to the ground, and Claude sighed, grabbed Suyen’s reins.

Soon, he thought to himself as he took off, the sound of beating wings loud in the silent night. Soon, I’ll see Teach, and then I can get rid of this damn illness. Then, he could start towards his dream, Teach at his side. She was alive, he knew it. He could feel it in his bones, in his heart. All he had to do was survive long enough to tell her.

* * *

As I stated earlier, this was inspired by @smallestbrowns [hanahaki Claudleth comic](https://smallestbrown.tumblr.com/post/188166113499/yes-i-have-other-work-i-should-be-doing-yes-im) and several other hanahaki stories i read after it


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth reunite at the monastery, but the flowers are still there, As the fight against Edelgard gets off to a rocky start, Claude attempts to keep his illness a secret. But it doesn't take long for someone to realize something's off.

The sky was still dark when Claude arrived at the monastery, but he could see it pinkening in the distance as the sun slowly started to rise. It would be a while yet before dawn rose, and he couldn’t wait for it to come. That happy, hopeful feeling still bubbled in his chest, only growing as the towers of the monastery drew closer.

Five years. Five years he’d been waiting for this day, to see Teach and the other Deer. Five years since he’d met Teach in the Goddess Tower. Five years of living with this damn illness, this illness that had been killing him since the fall of Garreg Mach. Five years. So much had changed in that time.

Even in the dark, Claude could see how ruined the monastery was. Rubble was still laying on the ground since no one was there to clean it up. There was a large hole in the roof of the chapel, and Claude frowned, wondered who did that. Was it that dragon creature from five years ago, the one that had decimated the town around the monastery? Or was it someone from the Empire? Too late to worry about it now.

He angled Suyen down, landing near the back of the chapel. As he slid off his back, another coughing fit seized him, constricting his chest and making his hands shake. Petals flitted out from his mouth, spilling onto the ground, drops of red blood bright against the white flowers. Suyen made another worried-like sound and angled his head towards Claude. Despite himself, he reached a hand out, scratched the wyvern as he coughed.

“Don’t worry, Suyen, I’m fine,” He said to the wyvern. He gave a growl-like sound, and Claude chuckled. Even if everything was falling apart around him, at least his wyvern was still relatively unperturbed by the world. It gave him some comfort, even if that comfort was small. “I’ll be out for a bit, but I’ll be back.”

With that, Claude started towards the Goddess tower, his eyes darting around the monastery. He’d heard that thieves had been prowling the monastery and the area around it, and he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few crawling around in the chapel. Warily, his grip tightened around Failnaught.

He climbed the steps of the Goddess Tower, his footsteps loud in the silence. With each step, he felt the weight had been laying on his shoulders being lifted up, and he felt like that dream he’d been holding onto for so long was right within reach. All he needed to do was jump up and grab it.

But he couldn’t do that without Teach there with him.

Finally, he reached the top, and for a moment, he expected Teach to be there, waiting for him. He felt his heart sink a little, however, when he saw the room was empty. But he couldn’t give up just yet; the sun was only just breaking over the mountains, and he still had the whole day ahead of him. All he had to was wait; a few more hours was nothing compared to five years worth of waiting.

Claude took a moment to savor the view; the rising sun draping the mountains and the valley in golden rays. It was idyllic, peaceful, serene. You almost - almost- couldn’t tell the events that happened here five years ago. It was a picture, a painting, a peaceful moment of scenery against the horrors of war.

Then, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he heard footsteps.

He finally felt like he could breathe again, that bubbling feeling in his chest threatening to burst. Claude turned towards the door just in time to see Teach walking through, looking… exactly the same as she did five years ago, surprisingly. It was almost a relief, really, seeing her like that. Even after five years, some things haven’t changed at all.

A smile - an actual, genuine smile - made its way onto his face. He stepped towards her, the sun shining through the window.

“You overslept, Teach,” He chuckled. “Pretty rude to keep a fella waiting like that, wouldn’t you say?”

She took a step forward, then another, eyebrows raising slightly, mouth parting slightly. If he didn’t know her as well as he did, it would be impossible to tell that she was surprised. But she was.

Claude closed the distance between them, smiling.

“What’s with that surprised look, my friend?” He asked her, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t really think I’d given up on you coming back, did you?”

Teach - no, Byleth - smiled, a smile that he hadn’t seen in years, a smile that made his heart flutter, made him feel like he could finally breathe.

He turned to face the window, the light from the morning sun streaming in through the window. Birds had started chirping outside, the trees swaying in the small breeze.

“Can you feel it?” He asked her. “A new dawn is finally here. Not just for us, though. For all of Fodlan.”

For me and Almarya too, Claude added silently, turning to face Teach again. She tilted her head, stepping towards him a bit closer than he’d expected her to.

“Your braid’s gone,” She said, before running a finger down the small beard that had been growing for the past five years. He felt his cheeks heat; her hand was warm and soft against his face. “And you have a beard… You’ve grown.”

A soft chuckle. “Yeah…” Then he paused, frowned. “It’s been five years, Teach. Where have you been? I - everyone’s - been looking for you.”

They catch up, heading down to the chapel to talk and share their rations. He didn’t miss how her eyes lingered on the pile of rubble from the hole in the chapel roof, and he frowns. Had Teach really been asleep for five years? Sure, she wasn’t that normal to begin with, so it wasn’t that hard to believe, and he believed her when she said she wasn’t lying. But, still, he had to wonder; what could make her fall asleep for five years? It was… odd, to say the least.

But any questions he had for her ended when another coughing fit seized him. He was barely able to get to the door of the Goddess Tower before he starts coughing, flowers spilling forth from his mouth towards the ground below. That spark of hope in his chest shattered as coughed, realizing with a sickening dread that she didn’t love him back.

For a moment, he wanted to curse himself for being so foolish, for thinking that Teach could love him even though they only knew each other for about a year. Then again, he had fallen for her; it was possible that Teach was just slower to realize it. After all, it wasn’t like she was particularly great at handling emotions. Since - as far as he knew - Captain Jeralt had been the only person she ever truly loved, it would make sense that Teach wouldn’t know what love felt like even if it hit her upside the head.

Once the fit had stopped, Claude wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, trying his best to hide any traces of his attack. If there was one thing he didn’t want, it was Teach forcing herself to love him out of pity. He was either going to do it with his gentlemanly charm or not at all.

Sighing, Claude put the handkerchief back in his pocket and walks back to the chapel. Once he had finished sharing a meal with Teach, they went out to rout the bandits. The monastery was a second home to him, and he wasn’t letting them take this place over.

*

Claude was surprised - but happy - when the rest of the Deer show up in the middle of fighting the bandits. It had certainly made the job easier, and they had brought soldiers and supplies and some food with them as well. Before long, old friends, students and teachers were reuniting in the monastery. Seteth and Flayn were there, and Claude felt a sinking feeling coming over him when he realized Rhea was still missing.

He had never trusted her, sure. But she was still the Archbishop, and one of the few people able to get him food, supplies, and soldiers. Plus, if Rhea hadn’t been found yet, it meant she’d either been captured or killed. He shuddered to think of how things would be different if it was the latter. For now, Teach would take her place in the chair, as the acting Archbishop until they found Rhea; or, worse, her body.

The first thing everyone had set off to do was rebuild the monastery. With the Knights of Serios and a few soldiers from the Alliance to help, Claude hoped that it would be ready soon. And, with Teach and the Sword of the Creator on their side - his side - he could only hope that getting the knights and people of Fodlan rallied could be that much easier. So, for now, they would focus on rebuilding the monastery and gathering troops and supplies. By the end of week one at the monastery, the word about the Knights of Serios being up and running again, with Teach at the head of it, was already spreading across the land.

That, however, also drew the attention of Imperial troops. Within the month, Imperial troops were at the door of the monastery, ready to take them down before they can start their assault against the Empire and Edelgard. Luckily for them, their forces were nothing compared to their troops, his schemes and Teach’s battle prowess. There had been an attack, but it was small and short. Luckily for him, no one had seen it.

But after that, he knew he had to go after the Empire fast. So he went to get troops from Judith at Alleil, but - like most things - didn’t go so smoothly. Still, though, he had gotten allies and supplies. It was the least he could hope for, the least he could ask for. Now, all that was left was for them to invade the Empire, and hope he didn’t die beforehand.

*

Even though he tried to hide it, however, he still couldn’t completely hide his illness from everyone. He always knew someone would figure something was wrong eventually, and before he knew it, someone was knocking on his door; during a coughing fit, though. Of course, Claude thought to himself, wiping his mouth. Why wouldn’t someone come at any other time?

“One… one second,” Claude said, hastily opening up a drawer and scooping the flower petals into it. It would ruin the papers, but he didn’t need anyone to see the petals forcing their way out of his throat. Especially if it was Teach.

It took him a few minutes, but he finally managed to stop coughing. Quickly, Claude wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, closed the drawer, and hope that he hid any trace of his fit well enough that someone couldn’t see it.

“Come in,” Claude finally said, and the door opened up to see Marianne walking in, a look of concern on her face.

“Good evening, Claude,” Marianne said, and Claude smiled.

“Hey, Marianne,” He replied as Marianne closed the door behind her. “Need anything?”

“Is everything okay, Claude?” Marianne asked, her voice soft and quiet. “You seem… ill… as of late.”

He nodded, really hoping that he had gotten rid of any evidence of his illness. As much as he appreciated his friend’s concern, he didn’t need anyone else fretting over him, not when he could still fight.

“I”m fine,” He assured her, Marianne tilted her head in response, and she could feel his eyes looking him over. Not in a shifty sort of way, but in a concerned look. He shifted, legs going over to where he kept the tea set.

“You don’t seem fine,” Marianne told him, taking a seat in one of the chairs at the small table in his room. “You’ve been coughing a lot, and Cyril said he’s been finding blood on your clothes. Plus, you keep excusing yourself from war meetings, running out of the room each time.”

Ah. So maybe he wasn't careful enough. He would need to start getting the blood out of his clothes. Still, he made an attempt to lie, the words falling easily off his tounge as he brought over the tea set.

“We’re in a war, my dear Marianne,” Claude said, starting to prepare the tea. “Blood is a natural occurrence, whether we like it or not. If Cyril doesn’t like blood-stained clothes, maybe he shouldn’t be part of laundry duty. Or fighting, by extension, though that’s not really my choice.”

Marianne sighed. “You may be right, but still… if you’re injured off the field, you should tell someone. You’re our leader, Claude. Our tactician, our schemer. The Alliance can’t lose you, we can’t lose you… The professor can’t lose you. You’re too important to all of us.”

Claude sighed, poured the tea. “I know, Marianne, and trust me; I don’t intend on dying, not yet. I got to do a lot of stuff before I bite the dust,” He told her, before setting teapot down. “And I thank you for your concern as well. But I’m fine, I swear.”

“Don’t lie to me, Claude,” Marianne said, a sharpness to her tone Claude hadn’t heard from her in… well, ever, really. When she spoke again, though, her voice was soft and quiet once more. “I know you’re ill, somehow. And I don’t know what’s wrong; maybe I don’t want to. But you still should tell someone. Have you at least seen a doctor about this?”

Scowling, Claude picked up his teacup, took a sip. So much for hiding it, he thought. He doubted that any cleverly-weaved lies could get him out of this. But still, maybe it would be better to tell someone, a healer at that. Plus, he trusted her a hell of a lot more than he did Manuela, and although he knew Teach dabbled in white magic, he obviously couldn’t tell her.

“Fine,” he said, setting it down. “But… can you not tell anyone about this? It’s… well, I’m still trying to figure out how to deal with this, and I don’t want the others fretting over me, though it really isn’t that bad.”

Not yet, he added silently. But Gods knew how much time he had left before he choked to death on flower petals. He’d probably rather die at Edelgard’s hand then succumb to an embarrassing death like that.

“Even the professor?”

“Yeah,” Claude said, nodding. “As I said, I don’t want anyone fretting over me at this, especially Teach. She’s already busy enough as it is with the war, and I don’t want to cause her any unnecessary stress or put her under any sort of pressure.”

“I… I see.” Marianne paused as she took a sip of her tea. “That’s… admirable. Stupid, but admirable.”

Claude just raised a shoulder and drank his tea in response, unsure of what to say to that.

“So what’s wrong, then?” Marianne asked. “And, as I said earlier, have you seen a doctor?”

“No, I haven’t,” Claude replied. “This felt… how should I put this… personal. It’s… I haven’t gone to a doctor for the same reason I haven’t told you or the others about this. And as for what’s wrong…” He paused, sighed. “Well, let me just say that death by flower petals doesn’t seem like a good way to go.”

For a moment, Marianne was silent, and Claude wondered if she had ever heard of it. Then, he heard a sad sigh escape her lips. Claude frowned, looked over to her.

“So… it’s the Hanahaki disease then, am I right?”

Claude nodded, took a sip of his tea. The air around him seemed to shift into something much more uncomfortable, something that set a weight on his chest. Or maybe it was just the damn flower petals. It was most likely the latter.

“So you know of it, then?” He asked her once he finished with his tea. Marianne nodded.

“Yes. A rare disease, caused by unrequited, one-sided love. It’s said that if the flower petals don’t disappear within a certain amount of time, the victim chokes to death on them,” Marianne said, rapping her fingers on the table. “Only three things can cure it; the victim has surgery to remove the flowers - losing their feelings and sometimes memories of the person they loved - the victim falls out of love, or-”

“The person I love confesses their love back to me,” Claude finished, sighing and waving a hand through the air. “Yeah, I know. It’s a damn problem that I’m still trying to solve.”

Marianne looked up at him, then, her eyes soft and full of curiousness.

“Does that mean you don’t know who you love, then?”

“No, I do, it’s just… they don’t love me back.” A pause, then he changed his original statement. “Or they do and they just haven’t realized it yet. I don’t know, honestly.”

Another coughing fit overtook him at that moment, then, almost ironic given the conversation, his chest constricting and making it hard to breathe. It was a shorter one this time, but petals and blood still stained the carpet. When it was done, he realized that Marianne had gotten out of her chair and was using her healing magic on him, a small, refreshing feeling in his chest and lungs.

“Thanks,” He managed to sputter out, voice cracking, and he pulled out his handkerchief, wiped the blood off his lips and mouth.

“It’s no problem,” Marianne replied. Then, her eyes drifted to the ground, where flower petals lay. “How… how long has this been going on?”

“Five years,” he told her, pouring himself some more tea and trying to wash down the blood on his mouth. “It’s been plaguing me since the fall of the monastery.”

“What?!” Marianne asked, voice high. Then, her eyebrows rose, and she placed a gentle hand on Claude’s throat. “Why have you let it drag on this long? Do you not know who you love?”

“No, it’s not that,” Claude replied, setting the tea down and sighing. Tried to figure out how to phrase is next scentence to not spill the beans about how he liked Teach. “I do know, it’s just… I couldn’t tell them.”

“Do they like someone else?” Marianne prodded, taking her hand away from Claude’s throat and walking back to her seat. Claude shook his head in response, and Marianne frowned. “Well, why haven’t you told them, then?

“I just… I couldn’t, alright?” Claude snapped, a little harder than he meant to. Then he sighed. “S-sorry… it’s been a stressful time, to say the least.”

“No, it’s alright,” Marianne said, giving a small shake of her head. “It’s hard on all of us, and we’re just starting. But that’s all the more reason you should tell the person you love that you love them before you keel over. So, I’ll ask again. Why haven’t you told them?”

Claude sighed, picked up the tea again. It was getting cold, but he didn’t care. He regretted the words he said next, however, the moment they left his lips.

“I do know who they are, but the reason I can’t tell them isn’t because they like someone else. It’s… they don’t like me back. At least, I don’t think they do. Or… they do, and they just… haven’t realized it yet. That’s… a very real possibility.”

He realized too little too late that maybe he said more than would’ve been necessary, but the words had already left his mouth, too late to take them back. Marianne blinked slowly, a small smile coming on her face.

“It’s the professor, isn’t it, Claude?” She asked him, her voice smooth and quiet, but assured, as if she knew it was true. Claude sighed, averted his gaze in an attempt to retain what little dignity he had left.

“…Yeah… How’d you know?”

“Well, I know that you never stopped sending out search parties to the monastery for the past five years, and you always seem to be hovering close to the professor,” Marianne told him. “Besides, when we were students, it was pretty obvious that you… how do I put this… You flirted with her quite a bit, and it was pretty obvious to all of us - except you two, of course. Hilda, Leonie, Ignatz and I even had a bet on when you were going to ask her out once we graduated.”

Claude’s cheeks heated, and he lowered his head, put his hands behind his head.

“I guess I’m not as nearly as mysterious as I think I am,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before glaring at Marianne. “And I was not flirting with Teach when we were students.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

Sighing, Claude stood up, gathered up the tea set. “…Fine. You’re right; it’s Teach,” he said, walking over to his desk. “But… please, Marianne, can you not tell her about this? She doesn’t like me back, and I don’t… I don’t want her to worry about me or force herself to love me or something like that. And if I do tell her, and die because of the disease, I don’t want her to feel responsible for my death because she didn’t love me back.”

He had already seen her like that once, in the month following Captain Jeralt’s death. He didn’t want to put her through that again.

“And how sure are you that she doesn’t love you back?” Marianne asked, her voice soft. Claude sighed as he set the tea set down, ran a hand through his hair.

“Well, I’m figuring that if she did like me back, the flowers would be gone. And yet, there they are.” He gestured to the flowers on the carpet, the ruby-red blood a stark contrast to the pale white. It was almost beautiful, in a sad, melancholy sort of way.

“Or maybe she does, and just doesn’t realize it, as you said earlier,” Marianne replied, stepping up and walking over to him. “After all, emotions aren’t exactly the professor’s strong suit. It’s possible she likes you back but doesn’t know because she doesn’t have any experience with love. Or… any other emotion, for that matter.”

“I figured the same thing,” Claude replied, shrugging. “But, on the off chance that’s not the case, and she truly doesn’t like me back, well… as I said, I don’t want to force her into loving me. So… can you not tell her? Or anyone else, for that matter. I don’t want to risk them running their mouth when Teach is around.”

Marianne nodded, closing her eyes. “Alright, I won’t. But if this gets worse, or you feel like you’re actually going to die, promise me that you’ll tell her. If it has a chance to save your life, take it. And if worst comes to worst, and she doesn’t like that, tell me, and I’ll have a doctor perform the surgery. Understand, Claude?”

“I understand, my dear Marianne,” Claude replied, another smile flicking onto his face.

“Good. And, from now on, I want you to stay near me in battle. It wouldn’t be good for any of us if you were killed by an enemy because you were unable to fight since you’re coughing up flower petals. And if it gets really bad, fall back. You’re important to a lot of people, Claude, myself included.”

“Of course,” Claude replied, nodding. “I promise that I’ll be careful from here on out.”

Marianne smiled, and it was oddly reassuring, despite the situation he was in. “Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to bed.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Marianne.”

Once Marianne had left, Claude set off to start cleaning the floor, a question floating in his mind. If worst did come to worst, and Teach didn’t like him, would he get the surgery and throw away his feelings - and possibly memories - for her and live? Or would he throw away his dream and die, still able to love Teach? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

So he moved quickly, determined to end this war before the disease ended him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, here's chapter two of my self-indulgent hanahaki AU thing! Hope you guys enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't take long for Byleth to know something's wrong. After being cornered in the Cardinal's Room by her, he goes to Hilda, hoping for anything she could tell him about Byleth liking him back.

The war moved slower than he would’ve liked it too, but soon both Myrrdion and Fort Merceus were under their control. Or, if it hadn’t been for those mysterious and deadly Javelins of Light, it would’ve been both.

Still, even with Fort Merceus gone, the Alliance now had a foothold in Empire Territory, the Alliance lords now (finally) rallying at their back. House Gautier and House Fradalius had also spared them some troops as well, with letters saying that they better go to take down the Empire before they break through their forces. It wasn’t much, but in war, anything was better than nothing.

However, the attacks were growing worse. Claude nearly fell to an enemy’s sword during the Fort Merceus battle, and the only reason he didn’t was because Marianne had been by him. She was kind enough to not tell anyone else to look after him or watch his back while the attack had happened, but Claude didn’t miss the worry and sternness in her voice when she reminded him of his position.

But they were so close to Enbarr, to ending this war. All they had to do was take over Enbarr, and defeat Edelgard. Then, the Empire would fall. He figured that, once peace was to be had, then he could tell Teach about his feelings for her. It would make it that much more romantic, and Claude had always been one for drama.

Teach was vigilant as ever, however, and soon she noticed something was wrong with him. He had managed to evade her a few times, making something up about going on kitchen duty or having a training exercise with Hilda. It wasn’t long, though, before she had him cornered in the Cardinal’s room.

He’d known something was wrong when he first stepped in to see it empty, and before he could leave, he heard the door closing behind him. Claude turned to see Teach standing in front of the doors, her arms crossed over her chest. Her stare was as blank as ever, but there was something in her gaze that made it seem as if she was staring through him and looking into his soul.

“Uhh… Teach?” Claude asked warily, looking around the room and wondering if now would be a good time to jump out of the window. “Where is everyone? Isn’t the war meeting supposed to be today? And… why did you close the door?”

“Rescheduled it for tomorrow,” Teach replied, voice unwavering. “We need to talk. Alone.”

“Wow, right to the point, huh, my friend?” Claude joked, trying to keep nonchalant, though he felt his skin crawl. He really didn’t want to be talking about this right now. “No hi, no hello, no how are you? Sounds serious.”

“Yeah. I don’t like it when people are keeping secrets from me, least of all you.”

There was a certain hard tone in her voice, something Claude hadn’t heard since Jeralt’s death - when she viewed just about everyone with suspicion - that made Claude pause. Briefly, his eyes darted to the window, wondering if he could survive the fall if he jumped. Then, he looked back at her. Even if he did, he assumed that it would just make Teach angrier. If she was angry, that is.

“What do you mean?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still keeping his smile up. Hoped that Teach would just drop it.

Byleth sighed, leaned backward and put a foot up upon the door. “Something’s wrong, Claude. Something with you, but… I have no idea what it is. Only that you’re hiding it from me. No, not just me… from everyone.”

“Not everyone.”

The words fell from his lips before he thought better of it, and he cursed himself silently. Teach had always had a way of making people say what was really on their minds. There was something about her presence that was… comforting. Trustworthy. It hadn’t been the first time he fell for it, but it was definitely the worst. That included the time he got caught trying to sneak out to go to the classroom to change the grade on one of his papers before she handed it back to him.

Teach didn’t do much more than blink, but Claude wondered if that was a small, ghost of a smile he saw flickering on her lips, there and then gone. He could see, however, the small glimmer of victory in her eyes, only to be replaced by concern.

“Claude, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Claude paused, resisted the urge to look away, lest she take it as suspicious behavior. That was exactly the problem; he couldn’t. If he had loved someone else, she would’ve been the first person he’d gone to about this, the first person he would’ve sought advice from. But he couldn’t tell her, and that was what made his next words hurt all that much more.

“I know, Teach,” he replied, feeling a small piece of him shatter at that. “I do. But, come on, can’t we all have a few secrets to ourselves?”

Byleth sighed, shook her head. “You can - it’s a part of what makes you so charming, really - but if they threaten you or your health, I want to know them. You’re important to me, Claude. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m fine, Teach,” Claude lied easily, his cheeks heating at the first part of her scentence and his gut churning at the next. Lying was something that came naturally to him. It had helped him survive and get out of a few scrapes more than once, but there was something that felt so inerringly wrong at lying to Teach. It left a foul taste in his mouth, something he usually only tasted when he was coughing up flower petals.

He also made a mental note, however, about how Teach hadn’t included the Alliance or the other Deer in her statement. Could that mean something, or was he just reaching for something that he couldn’t grasp, looking for something that wasn’t there?

Byleth tilted her head, eyebrows raising slightly, lips turned downward in a small frown. “You don’t seem fine, Claude. You look exhausted, you seem ill, and you’ve run out of the room during conferences more times than I have fingers on my hand. If something’s wrong, I want to know, so I can help.”

He phrased his next words carefully, trying to not give out too much, but trying to give out just enough to reassure her, smooth her feathers.

“You could try, but… I’m not sure how much help it would be,” he told her, sighing. “Not unless you feel the way I do.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Teach asked him, voice equal parts anger and confusion. Claude shot her a wink.

“You’re smart, Teach. Surely it shouldn’t be that hard to figure it out, right?”

The look in Byleth’s eyes made Claude uneasy, as if she was trying to see through him. It was something she did all the time when he was a student, and something she did incredibly well. From little he knew of her dad, Captain Jeralt had had the same look, if a bit more intimidating. So, itching to escape this awkward conversation and her all-seeing gaze, Claude gave her a smile that he hoped was charming enough to convince her he was fine.

“Trust me, Teach. I’m not hiding anything, and I’m fine,” Claude repeated, hoping that she would drop it. He could already feel an attack climbing its way up his throat, feeling short of breath, hands shaking slightly as he tried to repress it.

Finally, she sighed, turned around and opened up the door. “Fine,” She said, taking a step out, before pausing and looking over her shoulder at him. “But if I find out you were lying, I’m booting your ass to laundry duty for a month.”

Claude would’ve chuckled at that, but he was already trying to not cough up the petals before she left. “Got it, Teach,” He replied. Byleth gave him one more suspicion-filled look before she finally exited the Cardinal’s room.

He waited a few seconds, shoulders shaking with the effort of trying to repress the flowers. Then, he took a quick glance outside to make sure she hadn’t lingered behind. When he saw the hallway was clear, he slammed the door shut behind him and sank down to the ground, finally letting the attack hit him.

It was a bad one, petals spilling from his mouth faster than he could breathe. One full flower, then two, and even a third. By the time it was done, his lungs and throat ached, a wave of nausea coming over him when he tried to stand. So, with a groan, he sat back down, coughing up the last few flower petals stuck in his lungs.

This sucked. Period. So close to the person he loved, and he couldn’t tell them a damn thing. The person he trusted with his life, and he just lied to her face. This hurt him, and he couldn’t do a single damn thing other than wait and bear the pain. And if he didn’t tell her soon, he’d suffocate to death. On flower petals. Shitty way to go.

 _Soon,_ he thought to himself, running a heavy hand through his hair, chest smarting with every breath. _Soon, we’ll defeat Edelgard, destroy the Empire, bring peace of Fódlan. When we do, Teach, I’ll tell you. I promise._

Then, a thought occurred to him, then, sudden and surprising. It was true that Teach wasn’t the best with emotions, but he figured that, if she did like him back and just didn’t realize it, she probably want to tell someone. If not him, then someone else.

Cleaning up the mess of flower petals he had made, Claude stood up, walked out the door, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief to get rid of any excess blood. He needed to find Hilda; if there was anyone other than him Teach would turn to, it would probably be her.

*

Claude found Hilda in the gardens with a cup of tea in one hand and a brush in the other. He walked over, took a seat next to her on the bench.hm,

“Hey, Hilda,” he said to her, and she looked up, beamed at him.

“Oh, hey Claude!” She said, setting the brush and her teacup down. “Hey, this tea is still warm. Do you want a cup?”

“Ah, thanks, but no thanks,” Claude, leaning back in the bench, putting his hands behind his head. “As much as I’d love to skip off my work and have a cup of tea with my darling Hilda, I actually have a question for you.”

“Oh?” She asked, picking up the brush again, leaning towards him. “A question? Sure thing! Ask away.”

Claude let out a chuckle, picked up one of the hair clips she had set on the table, examined it. “Well, how close are you to Teach, Hilda?” He asked her.

“Pretty close,” she replied, running the brush through her hair, a hint of suspicion to her voice. “Why do you ask? Are you trying to wring some more secrets from her?”

“In a way,” he replied, turning the hair clip over in his hands. “Nothing too personal.”

“What does that mean?” Hilda asked, before leaning forward and plucking the clip from his hands.

Claude paused as he frowned, wondering how to phrase his next question without making it seem weird. “Well, I was wondering… you know how our dear old Teach isn’t exactly the best with emotions, right?”

Hilda frowned as she put the clip in. “Yeah… why?”

“Well, I was wondering, does Teach ever… oh, I don’t know, talk to you about any personal feelings she might have?”

“Personal feelings? What do you mean by that?”

Claude leaned back, bouncing his leg up and down. “Like, stuff with emotions or how… uh, how they feel about… certain… brunettes with a silver tounge?”

Hilda chuckled, giving Claude an all-knowing wink. “Ooh, what are you saying, Claude?”

His cheeks heated, and he frowned, already regretting telling her this. Knowing her, she would never let it go. “Well, I… may or may not… mmm…”

“Oh, relax, Claude,” Hilda said, finishing putting her hair up and picking up her teacup. “Everyone knows that you have a crush on the professor. I’m surprised it took you this long to realize it. The professor is one thing, but you?”

“Damn, I’m really not that mysterious, am I?” Claude muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Fine. And for the record, I have known that I liked her for… well, for a while now. But that’s not my point. I was wondering if Teach has ever told you if she liked me. Like, like liked me. Or… does, I suppose.”

“Why do you ask?” Hilda asked, winking at him, before taking a sip of her tea.

“Well, I like her, and… if I do ever tell her, I… I want to know if she feels the same,” Claude muttered, leaning forward and sighing. “I don’t want to pressure her into loving me if she doesn’t like me back.”

Hilda gave a nod, tapping her nails on the teacup. “Ah, makes sense,” she said. “So, what are you looking for then?”

“I’m looking to see if Teach has ever talked with you, and see if she likes me, or… likes me and just… doesn’t realize it. So…?”

“Hmm,” Hilda mused, looking upwards at the sky. Claude followed her gaze. It was a nice day out, the sky clear of clouds, the breeze light and gentle, the birds chirping somewhere above. If he wasn’t so busy, it would be the perfect day to go for a walk.

“As far as I can tell, I don’t think the professor has ever talked about her emotions so much with me,” Hilda finally replied, looking over at him and shaking her head. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that when she does talk about her emotions, it’s with you.”

Claude sighed, feeling a sinking feeling in his chest, and he leaned forward. “Well, if she’s not talking with me or with you, who would she talk to?”

“I dunno,” Hilda replied, shrugging. “Marianne, Annette and Mercedes are probably your best choices for that.”

“No, it’s alright,” Claude told her, standing up. If Teach wasn’t talking about her emotions with either of them, it was entirely possible she wasn’t talking about them to anyone at all. He knew that trusting wasn’t something that Teach hadn’t always been comfortable with, especially after Jeralt’s death. And with them in the middle of a war, the circle of people she - and anyone, really - had shrunk.

“Anyways, I should go,” he said, giving her a wave. “Still have work to do, after all. Maybe I’ll join you for tea later, though.”

Hilda beamed at him and waved, and as Claude walked away, he wondered if Teach truly didn’t love him back, or if she was just blind to see it. He also wondered if she would figure it out before he choked to death on flower petals. But for now, he had to worry about conquering Enbarr, first. The quicker he could end this war, the sooner he could tell her everything he’s wanted to for the past five years.

*

Before soon, it was the day before the assault on Enbarr. Claude tried his best to sleep, but it evaded him easily, and before long he resigned himself to the fact that he might be up for a while yet. So he stood up, went outside to take a walk around the monastery, try to clear his running mind.

The monastery was somehow so much different during the night than it was during the day. Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was the dark. Maybe it was the sense of adventure that poked at him, wanting to search the secrets and cracks and hidden passages it held. He had discovered quite a few small hidey-hole spaces and secret rooms when he was a student, but he was confident that there were still more places to be discovered.

He didn’t quite know where he was going, only that he was going somewhere. But as he neared the training grounds, however, he saw a shadow moving ahead of him. Claude paused, reaching for Failnaught, wondering who that was. Was that one of the knights? Or was it an enemy? He didn’t know. So he decided to follow them to see.

The person in question moved slow, seeming to not have a care in the world. They moved past the training grounds, through the top part of the reception hall, to the graveyard. When they knelt down in front of Jeralt’s grave, he knew it was Teach.

Claude lingered behind, at the top of the steps, wondering if he should follow her. She hadn’t appeared to notice him yet, and if she did, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she set down what looked like a small bouquet of flowers, took a seat in front of the gravestone.

“Hey dad,” Byleth said, her voice quiet, carrying over the graves. “I know I should be sleeping, but… I can’t… After all, our assault on Enbarr is tomorrow. My mind is already running, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, all the people I could lose… and that’s making it hard to sleep.

She paused, sighed. “I… I wish you were here. Then, maybe that way, I wouldn’t feel so… overwhelmed. After all, with one wrong call, and I could lose any of my friends. Ignatz, Marianne, Claude… everyone. And it’s… it’s like… ugh, what’s the word…” She grunted, shook her head. “Like… scared, or… something like that. It’s just… it’s a lot… and now I can’t sleep. Plus, the fact that Claude seems to be hiding something from me isn’t helping matters…”

Claude gulped, ran a shaky hand through his hair. He wished he could do something to ease her mind, but what? It wasn’t like telling her about his sickness would be that easy. And with the assault on Enbarr tomorrow, he didn’t want to cause her any unnecessary worry or be kicked off the front lines.

“I trust him, and he’s a good guy, if not a pain in the ass sometimes,” Byleth continued, and she heard a small chuckle. He scowled. “But… there’s something wrong with him, something he won’t tell me. I tried asking him, but he said he was fine, and I feel like he was lying, but I don’t have any proof. And he’s an important part of the team; it’s not like I can just kick him off the battlefield. The only reason we’ve gotten this far is because of his schemes.”

 _Well, you certainly played a part in it,_ Claude thought to himself, sighing, feeling a pain in his chest. Whether it was from the flowers or not, he didn’t know. Didn’t know if he wanted to.

“But even if he’s not sick, I’m still… I’m still scared. Who wins the battle tomorrow could very well say who wins the war, and… and happens if we lose? What would Edelgard do, to me, to Claude, to everyone? She… she already killed Dimitri at Grondor… Would she kill Claude, too? Kill me? Kill the others? I don’t know, and it worries me. I make one wrong move, and I could get everyone killed. On the other hand, though, what will we do if we win? I don’t want to kill Edelgard, but she is the Flame Emperor, and since Kronya worked for her, well…”

T _hat’s right,_ Claude thought, remembering how Kroyna killed Jeralt. She worked under the Flame Emperor, who was Edelgard. Does that mean that Edelgard planned Captain Jeralt’s murder? Did Kryona do it by herself? Or was it for that Solon guy from the Sealed Forest? He was almost hoping that it was the latter; Edelgard turning against the Church was one thing, but her planning Captain Jeralt’s murder was another. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to forgive her if she did that.

He decided that now was probably the best time to go down there. So, taking a deep breath, Claude walked down the steps, his footsteps loud in the silence. In the moonlight, he saw Teach turn towards the stairs, grabbing the hilt of her sword, only to relax when she saw him.

“Hey, Teach,” Claude said, walking over to her and taking a seat. The grass was wet from the night chill, and he grunted. “Nice night out, isn’t it?”

“Claude,” she replied, tilting her head. “It’s late… What are you doing up? You should be resting for the battle tomorrow.”

“I can say the same thing about you,” Claude reminded her, before shaking his head. “And I already tried. Can’t. I’m assuming you have the same problem.”

She nodded, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her head on them. “Yeah,” she said after a few seconds, voice quiet. “It’s just… there’s so many things that could go wrong tomorrow… one wrong move, and any one of us could die… it’s… it’s scary.”

Claude sighed, put an arm around Byleth. “If I’m being honest, I am, too,” he admitted, pulling her against him. She tensed up, but relaxed after a moment, resting her head on his arm. “If we win, we might have to kill Edelgard. If we lose… we may very well die.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Byleth replied, sighing, and Claude looked down at her. She looked so… peaceful, almost, sitting there, hair falling down her face. The urge to brush her hair behind her ear was sudden and overwhelming, and Claude had to fight the urge to do so as she continued talking. “I don’t want to lose any of you guys. You, Marianne, Lysithea, Hilda, Raphel, Ignatz, Leonie… even Lorenz, as annoying as he is.”

That incited a small chuckle from Claude, and he looked up at the sky. It was partly cloudy tonight, but the moon was still shining through the clouds. The stars that he could see shone brightly, diamonds in the sky. Despite the looming threat of dying tomorrow, it made him feel… at peace, almost. His chest still hurt, but it was a small problem, one that could wait until later to solve. For now, he would just enjoy this moment with his friend.

When he finally looked back down to Teach, he saw that she had a silver ring in her hands, shining in the moonlight. It was detailed, pretty, and Claude frowned, wondering where she got that from.

“What’s the ring for, Teach?” He asked, tilting his head and wondering why the hell she had it out. Byleth looked up at him, then down at the ring.

“It was my mom’s, apparently,” she replied, voice soft. “My dad left it for me in his room after… after he died… he had told me earlier that I should give this to… to someone that I love.”

Claude felt his heart skip a beat. “And who is that?” He asked, afraid and excited to hear the answer. For a moment, she didn’t answer, just turned the ring over her hands. Then, she sighed.

“I… I don’t know, honestly,” she admitted, shrugging. Claude felt a stone sink into his chest, unsure of whether or not he liked her answer. That meant that she probably didn’t like anyone else, but it also meant that she might not like him.

Before he could say anything, though, an attack hit him, sudden and violent. Claude scrambled to his feet, dashing over to the edge of the wall as he tried to not cough up the flower petals where Teach could see. He doubled over the wall, the carnations spilling forth from his mouth and drifting downwards.

“Claude?” He heard Teach ask, and a moment later he felt her hand on his back. He kept coughing, unable to reply, barely able to breathe. His chest and throat burned, the metal tang of blood in his mouth sharp and foul. He hacked up one flower, a second, a third.

When it finally passed, he could barely stand, using the wall for support. The corners of his vision were blackening. Claude took deep breaths, hoping he wouldn’t pass out. His legs and shoulders shook, mouth trembling. Blood ran down his lips, warm and wet and sticky.

“Claude, are you okay?” Teach asked, and he felt the warm, fuzzy feeling that came with white magic healing. Taking a shuddering breath, he lifted up a heavy arm and wiped the blood away, then glanced over his shoulder at Teach. With the moonlight and the light from the magic, he could see the subtle worry on her face.

“I’m… I’m fine, my friend,” Claude said, but they both knew it was a lie. After all, he had just spent the past five or so minutes hacking up flower petals. Not like he could tell her without making her worry.

“Claude…”

“I said I’m fine, Teach,” he repeated, a little firmer this time. He took a step back from the wall, took in a shaky breath. “It’s… it’s nothing, r-really…”

“Claude.” She repeated, a little harder. Her lips were turned downward slightly, eyes narrowed, almost impossible to see in the dark. Claude paused, averted his gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t need this, not right now. If they won, he would tell her then, when he was sure they could move on and live in peace.

“Trust me, my friend,” Claude said, giving her a smile that he hoped was enough to reassure her. “I’m fine. Just a small coughing fit, that’s all.”

Byleth sighed, hung her head slightly. “You do remember the conversation we had the other day, right?” She asked him. Claude nodded. “Then you remember what I said, right? About me booting your ass to laundry duty if I found out you were lying?”

“Yes, I do,” Claude replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m fine.”

There was a look in Byleth’s eyes that made him think that she didn’t believe him. Then, she shook her head.

“Get some sleep, Claude. And don’t push yourself. We’ll need you for the battle ahead.”

Claude winked at her in response. “I know. And trust me when I say I’m not planning on dying anytime soon,” he said. Byleth just blinked, and he squirmed under her blank gaze. “Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow, my friend. You should probably get some sleep, too.”

“I’ll head to bed in a bit,” Byleth replied, her gaze darting to Captain Jeralt’s grave. “See you tomorrow, Claude.”

With that, Claude walked off, not noticing the small, blood-stained petal he’d left laying on the ground behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one bois but it's getting near the end
> 
> I... don't quite know what to say now aside from I hope you guys enjoyed it! Leaving kudos or a comment is appreciated as well!


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Alliance invades the Empire, Claude suffers another attack. Not long after, Byleth confronts him once more.

It’s during the final battle when the attack hits him.

The Alliance was cutting a path through the castle, towards Edelgard at the top, fighting soldier after soldier, even a few Demonic Beasts she had set loose in the castle. Why, Claude didn’t know, only that these things would be the death of him one day: if the petals didn’t get him first.

He had been on the left side of the castle with Marianne, Lorenz, Leonie, Ignatz and a few others, and had just felled one of the Demonic Beasts that roamed the castle. They weren’t near the throne room, but with the beast dead, Claude felt that much closer to it. A while longer, and it would be over.

Everyone was moving fast, soldiers coming out in droves, determined to not let the Alliance get close to Edelgard. But against the many Hero’s Relics they had, their strength, and the unerring leadership of Teach, they fell, one by one, littering the room with bodies. It was a gruesome sight, but Claude couldn’t falter, not here.

He made his way into the next room, already filled with dozens of soldiers. The clash of steel on steel sounds loudly in the room, but it’s almost faded compared to the shouting of commands and screaming of soldiers as they charged forward, hoping to knock the other back. Byleth is in the middle of it, cutting down soldiers one by one. Her nickname from her mercenary days - The Ashen Demon - had never been so appropriate. Even from this distance, Claude could see that her face was still expressionless, showing no signs of sadness or pity for the fallen soldiers. It was almost unnerving, but Claude had no time to focus on her.

So instead, Claude drew an arrow, nocked it, aimed. He let go, and it flew through the crowd, easily breaking through the leather chest plate of one of the assassins that had escaped Byleth’s blade. He let out a cry, fell, and Claude glances around. Wondered if he should switch to melee fighting, or keep Failnaught out. In these confined spaces, he couldn’t ride his wyvern, meaning he was that much closer to the sharp and deadly edges of swords, spears, and axes, and it would be harder to block and parry with a bow compared to an ax.

“Hey, Raphael, behind you!” Claude shouts as he spotted a soldier heading towards the big man, and he drew another arrow. Before he could shoot, though, Raphael spun around, and a moment later, his ax went flying into the chest of the soldier.

“Thanks, Claude!” Raphael shouted, turning to him and giving a short nod, before plunging himself into the thick of battle, yelling at the top of his lungs. Claude nodded, despite knowing he couldn’t see it, and switched his aim, shot the arrow at a mage that Sylvain was fighting against.

Then, he feels that constricting sensation in his chest, the tickling of the flower petals as they make their way up his throat, the metal taste of blood in his mouth, foul and disgusting. He takes a step back, covering his mouth with his free hand, hoping anyone but Marianne noticed.

It would be a bad one, he could tell that already. And he’d been fighting all day, so it would make it that much worse. Claude could only hope that he would be able to breathe during it; he couldn’t pass out here, not now, not when they were so close to winning, so close to securing their peace. Around him, the sounds of battle still rang, many of the other people there not noticing his hesitation.

Marianne notices almost immediately, however, probably because Claude had dropped to one knee, hand covering his mouth. She rushed over to him, climbing off her horse as he coughed, chest constricting, blood spilling from his mouth and lips and onto the ground below.

“Hey, is everything okay?!” He hears Ignatz shouts after a few seconds of hacking, and he glances up, sees the artist running towards him. He hopes that he doesn’t notice the flower petals falling from his mouth. Keeping Claude’s secret safe, Marianne held up a hand.

“Just a battle injury; some healing magic and he’ll be fine,” She told him. Claude saw him pause in his tracks, then look over his shoulder at Lorenz and Leonie. “Keep going, we’ll catch up in a minute.”

“A-are you sure?” Ignatz asked as Claude kept coughing, keeping one hand over his mouth to hopefully hide the petals. “W-what if you’re attacked from behind?”

“We’ll be okay; it should be quick,” Marianne said. Whatever Ignatz did next, Claude didn’t know; he was too busy trying to not suffocate on the flower petals, already feeling short of breath. Blood and petals and flowers are spilling from his mouth faster than he can take a breath. Letting go of Failnaught, he pounds on his chest, trying to take in a breath. He feels the warmth of white magic, but it’s doing little to help him get oxygen.

For a moment, he thought he might black out; he almost did. But then, the last few petals fell from his lips, and he could finally take a breath, hands and shoulders shaking, mouth trembling. Marianne was speaking to him, but he felt as if though someone stuffed his ears with cotton. The scratchy, painful feeling in his chest and lungs are still there, despite Marianne’s healing magic.

“Claude, are you okay?” Marianne asked him, her voice finally cutting the cotton in his ears, and Claude didn’t miss the waver in her voice. He nodded, counting silently to himself as he attempted to regain and control his breathing. _One, two, three…. one, two, three… one, two, three…_ It takes him a few seconds, but he finally feels as if though he can stand up without falling.

To her credit, Marianne helps Claude to his feet, using Dorte as support when his legs nearly give out beneath him. The battle had slowed down considerably, the Alliance soldiers easily breaking through the ranks of the Empire. He saw large numbers of them moving towards the throne room while a few lingered behind to take care of the remaining soldiers. The smell of death hung in the air, thick and foul.

Byleth was in the corner of the room, easily felling any poor soul that dared to attack her. As he took a moment to catch his breath, she finished them off, and then he saw her turn his way. He couldn’t see her face that well, for she had moved from his line of sight, but he knew that she had to either be worried or suspicious. It was almost unerring to see her like that; silent, barely moving, her face most definitely stony. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed she was a statue.

“Let’s… keep going…” Claude huffs, letting go of Dorte and picking up Failnaught. He gave Byleth a thumbs-up to assure her that he was okay, then started forward, still tasting pollen and metal in his mouth. Although she didn’t say anything, he could sense Marianne’s worry as she followed. Up ahead, Byleth watched him for a few moments, before ducking into the next room. That was fine with him; he didn’t want the disapproving glare that Byleth had perfected when she was a teacher.

Right now, all he wanted to do was win, before he suffocated on his love for her.

*

Before long, the battle had ended; Edelgard fell, and with it, the Empire. But he didn’t have much time to relax, for not long after, he received a letter of sorts from Hubert, realized with dread that there was more fighting to do if they really wanted to keep the peace.

So, by the end of the next week, they were back at Garreg Mach, everyone preparing to go Shambala. There had been an attack, and then another, each one as bad as the one during the percieved final battle. He knew that he didn’t have long before he would either die. Meaning he had to confess, and soon.

It had been a bit colder that day, Claude’s mind running with all sorts of thoughts, almost all of them pertaining to Byleth. The most prominent one was whether or not she would love him back, once he confessed. He was hoping that she would; he’d been hoping for the last six or so months now, since they reunited at the Goddess tower. It had carved a hole in his chest, his heart aching every time he thought of it.

If she did, then, with any luck, this damn disease would be cured. If she didn’t, though, he was shot to hell, and would have to make a choice on whether or not he should get the surgery. It was something he’d been trying to avoid for several months, now. He didn’t want to lose his feelings for her, but dying wasn’t something he wanted to do, either. He still had a dream he needed to fulfill.

Claude had been at the library when Cyril found him, writing a letter to his parents to tell them that he’d get home later than he had originally said he would. With TWSITD still out there and posing a threat to Fodlan’s peace, and the words he wanted to say to Byleth still at the tip of his tounge, he couldn’t go home, not yet. Plus, some part of him longed to stay at the monastery, by his friends and fellow soldiers. He had been bleeding for, studying, training, and fighting with the Deer and Lions and Eagles that Byleth had recruited, and it gave him a bad taste in his mouth at the prospect of leaving.

“Hey, Claude, there you are,” Cyril said, startling him. Claude looked up to the young man, a pile of books in his hand. He relaxed, set his quill down on the table.

“Hey, Cyril,” Claude said, giving a wave. “What’s up?”

“Ah, the professor was looking for you earlier,” he replied, setting the books down with a grunt. They thudded on the table, and Claude’s eyes drifted over the words before looking back up to him. He looked tired - the poor kid had been working around the monastery non-stop since the reunion, more so after the battle at Enbarr and Rhea’s return - and Claude wondered if he was getting any sleep.

“Teach is looking for me?”

“Uh-huh. She said to stop by her room when you first got the chance, that she would be waiting.”

“Ah, so that’s where she is,” Claude mused, having looked for her earlier in the day with no luck. Usually, on Sundays, she was running all over the monastery, from the greenhouse to the dining hall to the marketplace and back again. It was one of the hardest days of the week to find her; most of the other times, she was either in the war room or at the training grounds, preparing for the next battle or helping him or one of the other former students.

“Alright, let me finish this letter, then I’ll go see her,” Claude said, picking up the quill. Then his eyes darted to the books, that nervous, worrisome part of him wanting to help, so that way he could postpone her answer to his question a little longer.

“Okay.” With that, Cyril picked up the books, started shelving them.

Claude moved a little slower than he had before, not particularly inclined to hear her answer just yet. But he knew he had to face the music eventually. So, with a heavy sigh, he finished the letter, set the pen down, folded it up. He would send it out later, once he finished talking with Byleth. For now, he would keep it in his pocket, hope that it didn’t crinkle.

It didn’t take him long to get to Byleth’s room; it was a quick five minute or so walk from the library to the dorms. But even still, he walked slowly, paused outside her door for a few minutes longer, debating whether or not he should go in. Finally, he knocked.

“Hey, you in there, Te- Byleth?” He asked, already regretting his choice. Books made confessing one’s love seem a lot easier than it actually was. He wondered if it was too late to run.

“Yeah… come in,” Byleth said from inside, her voice quiet.

Yep, Claude thought, feeling his heart skip a beat. Way to late to run.

Taking in a deep breath, he opened up the door, stepped in. Byleth was sitting on the bed, her hair falling over her eyes, a book opened up in her lap. She looked up when she heard the door open, and Claude could see the slight bags under her eyes. He blinked, wondering if she was getting any sleep as of late as well. After all, only a week ago, she had killed one of her former students, even if she hadn’t been leading her class. That certainly had to weigh heavily on one’s shoulders and make it easier to evade sleep.

“Hey,” Claude said, closing the door behind him. “You wanted to see me. Is this about our next mission?”

Byleth stood up, brushing some of her hair behind her ears, and she took a step over to him, then another, easily closing the gap between them in two large strides. She was smaller than him by a few inches, and she had to look up slightly keep eye contact, but he felt scrutinized under his gaze. He had a feeling he knew what was coming next.

“Uh… Byleth?” Claude asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again.

“You lied to me, Claude.”

There was no accusation in her voice when she said this, but her tone was sharp, hard. Claude paused, feeling his cheeks heat and his stomach rolling. Since when had he become so easy to read? He used to be an enigma, a mystery to be whispered about in the halls; now it felt like anyone could tell what he was thinking or saying with a quick glance.

“…”

For a moment, he didn’t reply, trying to figure out how to phrase his next words. Byleth just looked at him while he did, silent and still, her face as blank as ever. Finally, he sighed and looked away, rubbed the back of his neck.

“S…sorry, my friend…” He muttered, suddenly wishing he was… well, anywhere other than here. He had never exactly been a fan of this stricter, disappointed side of Byleth; even when her face held no accusation or anger, it still made him feel a weight on his chest.

Byleth tilted her head slightly, expression unreadable and blank as it was the day he met her. Even for him, it was hard to see the subtle cues - not to mention the only cues - that could give away what she was feeling, especially now.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” She asked him, shaking her head. The downturned lips and the slight waver in her voice were the only signs of her worry. Claude shrugged, no skillfully-weaved words of reassurance coming to his mind. So, he simply said it as it was.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

Sighing, Byleth crossed her arms over her chest.

“Claude, I’m going to worry about you either way,” she reminded him, her voice still wavering slightly. “I… You’re important to all of us here. To me. It would be hard for… for all of us, if you died.”

Before, he would’ve said, _I’m not going to die just yet,_ or something along those lines. But his secret is out, and if Byleth didn’t like him back, he couldn’t make that promise. It hurt his heart, not being able to comfort her about that.

“I know that,” Claude replied, running a hand through his hair. “But you were already focusing so hard on the war and keeping everyone safe, and you were already stressed enough. I… I didn’t want to put you under unneeded pressure, or make you worry more than you already were, or…” He trailed off, unable to finish that sentence.

“And I appreciate that,” Byleth said, before shaking her head. “But it was a stupid thing to do, Claude. If I had known, I would’ve had your back. I would’ve helped.”

Claude sighed, looked away again. “As I said before, I’m not sure how much help you would’ve been.”

“Because it’s the Hanahaki disease?”

His gaze snapped towards her, but Byleth was looking at the floor, her hair hanging over her head. Claude gulped, looked away, feeling his cheeks heat, his gut churning. He didn’t like the way she phrased that. It made it seem like his love really _was_ unrequited.

“Y-yeah… How’d you know?”

Byleth looked up at him, then walked over to her desk. Claude frowned as he leaned to the side, trying to see what Byleth was doing. A moment later, she turned, walked up to him, grabbed his hand, and placed her hand in his.

“Uhh, Teach, w-“ he started, but then she removed her hand from his. In his hand was a small, blood-stained white petal. Claude exhaled, wrapped his fingers around and looked away.

“…Where’d you find this?”

“The graveyard,” Byleth replied, her voice quiet. He looked up at her, then back down at the flower.

“I… I see.”

“So how long has this been going on for?” Byleth asked him, taking a step closer to him, her head tilted. “A few months? A year? Two years?”

“A… little more, actually.” Claude told her, rubbing the back of his neck. “Five,” he added when she saw the look he gave her.

Byleth blinked, her eyes widening. She took another step closer to him, pressed a hand to his neck. He flushed, part of him wanting to move away, and another part of him wanting to move closer. So he stayed rooted to the ground.

“Five years?” She asked, voice steady as ever. “You’ve been dealing with this for five years? I thought you would’ve told them by now.”

“I… I, uh, had a little trouble with that,” he admitted, bringing his hand up to hers before he realized what he was doing. “I… I wasn’t able to tell her easily.”

“Well, who is it, then? Marianne? Hilda? Leonie? Lysithea?” He paused, raised her eyebrows, a small smile appearing on her face. It made his heart flutter; there was something about her smile that was so damn captivating. “Lorenz?”

“It’s not any of them, and it sure as hell isn’t Lorenz,” Claude grumbled, and Byleth chuckled at that, her voice bright and cheery. “It’s, uh, someone else, actually.”

Byleth raised an eyebrow. “If any of them, then who? Dorthea? Petra? Bernadetta? Mercedes? Annette? Ingrid? Flayn?”

“Mm, no, it’s not any of them, either,” he replied, hoping that Byleth would get the hint. “And besides, even if I did like Flayn, Seteth would be the one to kill me, not these damn flower petals. He never liked me to begin with, and me dating his sister wouldn’t make that any easier.”

“That’s fair,” Byleth replied, letting out another chuckle, and despite himself, Claude smiled. But then she sighed, looked at him. There was concern in her eyes. “But… if it’s not them, then who is it?”

Claude paused, and he looked away. He had already planned what he was going to say a while back, but now that he was here, he found it that much harder to say the words.

“Claude?” Byleth asked. “Did you hear me?”

“I… I did,” he replied, gulping, and he looked away, looked back at her, trying to untangle the mess of words in his mind, all the stuff he wanted to say to her, his neck and face heating furiously. _Why was this so hard?_

“Byleth… my friend… the, uh… the person I like… heh… the person I’ve been liking for the past five years…” he trailed off, his mouth unable to speak the words he wanted to say.

 _Just say the damn words, Claude,_ he could hear his mother saying to him. At least, he was pretty sure that’s what she would’ve said if she was there.

“It’s you, my friend,” he finally managed to sputter out, his heart skipping a beat.

Byleth’s face reacted before she did, her cheeks turning red, eyes widening slightly. Claude gulped, wanting to look away as much as he didn’t.

“…Me?” She finally asked, blinking, as if trying to process the words he just said. He didn’t blame her; it had taken him a while to process as well. And for someone as odd as Byleth, who didn’t have a good handle on emotions, it must’ve been that much harder. Suddenly wishing for some water, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, before dropping his gaze.

“Claude…” Byleth started, and even though she hadn’t said anything, he already had a bad feeling about it.

“But I… I understand if… if you… if you like someone else, or… o-or you don’t like me back or s-something like that,” Claude rambled, the words falling from his mouth like… well, like the damn carnation petals. “It’s, uh… it’s one of the, uh, the… the reasons I… I didn’t tell you in… in the first place.”

“Claude,” Byleth said, a little firmer this time. Claude paused, looked to her, gulping. His chest and stomach were fluttering, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the flowers or from his embarrassment. He tried to think of something to say, but no clever words or well-weaved sentences came to mind; it was as if his mind went blank, empty.

Byleth let out a sigh and looked down to the floor, muttering under her breath, her hair falling to cover her face. He didn’t know whether he should move closer or step back; didn’t know if he could do either one of those things. Instead, his feet were rooted to the floor.

“…Byleth?” Claude finally managed to ask, his mouth briefly connecting to his brain. Then, he took a chance, took his other hand and grabbed hers. He let his fingers intertwine with Byleth’s, and his heart skipped a beat when she let him, still muttering to herself. On the rare occasion he’d seen someone get close to Byleth like this, she usually stepped back or gave them her disapproving glare, sometimes threw a punch if they didn’t take the hint.

“Byleth?” Claude said again, giving her hand a small squeeze. Had he said the wrong thing? “Are… Did I… Should I leave?”

She let out a frustrated grunt, gave a small shake of her head. Before he could say anything, though, she looked up and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his.

Whatever was left of his mind short-circuited, and all he could think about was the fact Byleth was kissing him. Her lips were soft, and they tasted like… was that peach? Claude couldn’t quite tell.

After a moment, she pulled back, blushing furiously, and looked down to the ground. Claude looked at her, breathing heavily, trying to think of something to say, but his mind was blank. For a moment, neither of them spoke, Byleth not saying anything and Claude too shocked to speak. He realized, numbly, that when he breathed, his chest and lungs no longer hurt. Did that mean that the flowers were gone?

“Byleth?” Claude finally muttered, giving her hand a light squeeze. With his other, he gently brushed some of her hair behind her ear, feeling her pulse quicken as his hand dropped down to her neck after. For once, she appeared to be speechless; she had always known what to say whenever someone was upset or scared or angry. Despite the fact she herself didn’t have a good handle on her emotions, there was something about her words that reassured people, even when times were grim.

After a moment, Byleth looked up, eyes round.

“I… I love you, Claude,” she said quietly, and she shook her head. “I’m… I’m sorry that… that I didn’t say it sooner… I just… I didn’t know if… if you would like me back… and I just…”

“It’s fine, Byleth,” Claude said, taking a step closer to Byleth and resting his forehead against hers, letting out a small chuckle. “I guess we’re both pretty bad at this, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” Byleth replied, letting out a sigh. “But… better late than never, I suppose.”

“Does that mean the flowers are gone?” He asked her. Byleth nodded, and a smile crossed Claude’s face as he tilted her head up, kissed her again. He ran his free hand through her hair, fingers getting entangled in the mint-green locks as he pulled her closer to him.

Five years. Five years he’d been waiting for her, for this moment. He knew that they still had a war to fight, some loose ends to tie up. But for now, he would take this. And if - no, once - they won, he could finally grab his dream, Byleth at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! Really hope you guys enjoyed it, and thank you for reading! Leaving a comment or kudos would be appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> So for those of you who know my tumblr, I posted this a while back but never bothered to actually put it on Ao3 until now. Better late than never, I suppose. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy my Claudeleth Hanahaki fic, inspired by @smallestbrown art of hanahaki claude on Tumblr. I'm late but who cares.


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